Flicker
by Catsitta
Summary: No winning streak can last forever. In the wake of his first loss in court, Phoenix Wright loses himself. It's up Miles Edgeworth to pick up the pieces. But what good is a cup of coffee when an innocent is dead because of a corrupt system? Slowmance. P/E. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**(Please read author's note)**

A/N: My first Ace Attorney fic as well as the first story I'm working on since graduation. It's my new personal challenge story, where I write a chapter a day. Likely it will be a 30 day challenge, possibly longer if I feel it's needed. Or shorter, if the story comes to a natural conclusion before then.

So~ A little note about the AU part of this tale. The timeline? Yeah, post A1, events will be skewed for the sake of plot. The purpose of this story isn't to elaborate on canon, but to explore certain concepts I found deeply curious when playing the games. Any readers of my previous work will be familiar with my taste for angst and dystopian themes.

In the end, this is a romance.

Without further delay, let the challenge begin!

 **Flicker**

 **By Catsitta**

.1.

The gavel struck like lightning through the courtroom. Guilty was the verdict that thundered. Phoenix would never forget this moment. It marked his first loss...and it placed an innocent man on death row. He heard nothing after the judge announced the prosecution the victor. Not even the terrified accusations made by his client as the bailiff dragged the writhing man away. The room exploded into confused chatter as onlookers witnessed the rookie defense attorney face defeat after a two year winning streak. Phoenix was deaf to the chaos as he blindly pushed out of the courtroom, stumbling like a drunkard as the realization of what just occurred consumed him.

He lost. Phoenix never took a case where he wasn't one hundred percent sure of his client's innocence. This time was no different. All the evidence, all the testimony, it shouted not guilty. Yet here he stood in the aftermath, a murderer due to failure. What went wrong? Edgeworth should have never been able to salvage that case, much less turn it completely upside down in his favor. When it came to turnabout, Phoenix was renowned for flipping the tables, making connections and weaving stories that few others ever understood.

It was because of him that a number of prosecutors lost their perfect record of a guilty verdict. It was because of him that a giant knot of corruption exposed itself in the form of Manfred Von Karma, Chief Officer Gant and Chief Prosecutor Skye. He was practically a hero in California in the world of law!

Phoenix ran both hands through black, spiky hair. The nervous gesture did little to flatten the naturally unruly locks.

"I...I lost..."

His heart twisted in his chest until it was a pulsing tangle. He needed out of here. Fresh air. Yes. He needed fresh air!

The defense attorney broke into a run, pushing anyone between him and the front doors of the courthouse out of his way. When the heavy oak barrier was within reach, he flung it open with considerable force and staggered outside. As scuffed dress shoes met the first step, Phoenix noticed something.

Rain.

Strength abandoned him in a gasp. He sagged against the metal railing splitting the stairs down the center, hands clutching fruitlessly at cold steel. The rain fell in a steady tempo, blurring the world out of focus like a faulty zoom on a camera. Every drop that crashed into him was an icy knife—cutting, splitting, punishing. He half expected to see crimson puddling at his feet. What a strange thought. Murdered by rain.

A harsh bark of laughter escaped Phoenix's throat.

He trembled.

The child inside him wanted to drop to his knees and cry. It wanted to scream and beg and rip at its clothes like this was a bad dream.

But Phoenix did nothing of the sort. He remained standing. The only water that inched down his cheeks came from the sky above. He clenched a hand around the railing. His shoddy blue suit was becoming heavy, the fabric clinging and dripping with foreign weight. So much for dry clean only.

"Chief. I...I wish you were here," he murmured. Mia Fey, his long since passed mentor, would know what to do. She lost cases before, not many, but some. With Maya away training to become a master spirit medium, no one was around to channel her. She couldn't offer advice. Condolences. A proper scolding. Phoenix scoffed. No doubt Mia would try to shake some sense into him. Standing in the rain and moping like a kicked puppy didn't change the the verdict.

Was this how all those prosecutors felt when he shattered their records? Phoenix recalled the devastation writ on their faces, anger intermixed with disbelief. They were supposed to work together, in a strange way, to reveal the deeper truth. Guilty, innocent, whatever the verdict—it was the responsibility of both parties to bring justice.

He wiped his face with the back of his palm.

That last train of thought sounded suspiciously like Edgeworth.

Phoenix gritted his teeth.

What happened to bringing the truth to light? They had a couple cases in which they realized the defendant was not guilty and worked together from both sides of the courtroom to discover the real culprit. It was a magnificent volley. The newspapers featured any trial in which they faced off. This time, they would gossip about beginner's luck fading fast and the return of the ruthless Demon Prosecutor who would do anything to win a trial.

" _I know defense attorneys are not payed as well as prosecutors, but I am certain you can afford a proper shower at home, Wright."_

Phoenix whipped around. Standing beneath the overhang was his childhood friend and courtroom rival, Miles Edgeworth. He clenched both fists and allowed them to drop to his sides. Anger surged from his knotted belly into his throat, scouring it with the urge to scream 'objection!' They were no longer in session. Nothing either said would change a thing. Phoenix swallowed, feeling ill.

Grey eyes met blue, the former placid, the latter roiling with emotion.

Edgeworth look so _perfect._ Not a single wrinkle in his magenta suit. Not a single crease of his white cravat out of place. Even his dark hair, dusted with premature grey that looked silver in the right light, remained in the same neat style as always. In one hand he held an expensive, Italian leather briefcase, filled with notes for the latest case. In the other was a cheap paper Dixie cup that looked straight out of the defendant lounge. Hanging from an elbow was a folded black umbrella.

"You will catch a cold standing out there," Edgeworth motioned for Phoenix to step beneath the overhang. "Don't be foolish, Wright."

Legs leaden, the defense attorney complied, stiffly shuffling to stand in front of his rival. Edgeworth adverted his eyes for a moment before holding out the Dixie cup, expression unreadable. Phoenix stared at the offering, wondering what the man was playing at, what angle he was trying to pull apart. The prosecutor didn't do this sort of thing. Unless Phoenix outright chased him down after a trial, Edgeworth left without a single word spoken or glance spared.

Yet here he was, holding out a paper cup, as if he wasn't the reason an innocent man was dead.

Phoenix's arm extended as if he were a marionette on a string and shaking fingers closer around the proffered cup. It was warm. He brought it close. It was full of coffee.

"I assume you still smother everything in sugar," Edgeworth said, dropping his arm to his side, umbrella sliding into a now open palm.

A reflexive clench of his fist made steaming coffee gush all over Phoenix's fingers, scalding his knuckles a raw pink. Edgeworth inhaled sharply and struck a familiar, uncertain pose. Umbrella dangling from his wrist, he clutched his left arm with his right hand, head turned to the side. Phoenix dropped the cup, burnt fingers uncurling as cold air kissed inflamed skin. He should probably go wash his hands and bandage them. Blisters would make writing uncomfortable.

Suddenly, Edgeworth was glaring at him with the force of the demon he was called.

"Wright! You are acting like a child."

"Why don't you go back to giving me the silent treatment?" Phoenix shot back. "You seem perfectly happy ignoring me for months at a time. Go ahead. Just leave me alone."

Everyone left him in the end. Even Edgeworth.

"The verdict is decided. You cannot change it by sulking in the rain."

"Ha! Says the man who tried to fake his own death. What would you have done if I hadn't caught you leaving your office?"

"I was almost disbarred for presenting false evidence in a trial! My whole belief system had been ripped out from under me, Wright."

"So you leave a suicide note?" Phoenix choked out a harsh laugh. They never really spoke much about that day, shortly after Lana Skye's trial. Between them, they turned the whole trial around and discovered who the real murderer was, and that Skye was blackmailed into becoming an accomplice. Then Edgeworth, still raw from getting accused of murder and the betrayal of a father figure, was pushed to his brink by the corruption all around him.

Phoenix found him slinking out of the Prosecution Building muttering about how many innocents possibly died because of him. He actually cried in his arms that night. An impromptu search for Edgeworth turned into an accidental foiling of a grand escape to Europe. The man never spoke about that night. He just took leave for three months, locking himself away in his condo, before returning to court as if nothing happened.

He turned away phone calls, ignored emails and refused to answer the door, no matter how much Phoenix begged. His friend shut him out, and barely said a willing word to him since.

"This...this isn't relevant to the matter at hand," Edgeworth groused. He heavy sigh escaped and he tightened his fingers around the objects he held. "You lost today. A man you believed innocent was proven guilty. I understand that you must feel...distressed."

Phoenix wanted to punch him in the face, "He was innocent! How could you not see that he didn't kill that woman? The real murderer is out there while an innocent man is...is...dead! One trial. One verdict. He was found guilty of murder and we both know what that penalty is."

The system was corrupt. Backwards. No jury. No retrial. Just three days to prove guilt or innocence, and the guilty rarely saw prison for very long. You kill someone. You are put to death. That sentence is difficult to avoid even if self-defense is proven. Only a not guilty verdict guaranteed a life was safe.

"I am well aware of the penalty, Wright."

"Then why?"

Edgeworth opened his umbrella.

"It is the job of prosecution to find a defendant guilty. It is yours to prove them not. I did my job."

 _And you failed yours._

Phoenix watched the man descend the steps. A valet had already brought his shiny red sports car around to the front. Camera's flashed as he ducked into the driver's seat. A huddle of plastic wrapped news reporters tried to catch one last shot of the famed prosecutor before he drove away.

 **tbc**

 **A/N: (Thanks for reading. Please review! Comments, questions and suggestions are love. Until tomorrow!)**

 **Minor edits: 06-08-16**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

Thank you guest for reviewing! Here is my second installment of daily challenge fic.

.2.

He was glad Maya was away in Kurain Village.

Phoenix did not think he could handle seeing her happy-go-lucky face crumble into confused despair as the verdict rang out and he dragged his sorry self home in the rain. He didn't feel like catching the bus and he biked to court that morning. What was another hour getting drenched? By the time he arrived at Wright & Co, Phoenix's clothes were plastered to skin, his hair hung flat and he narrowly avoided getting hit by a car twice. The back pack he used in lieu of a brief case was the only thing not waterlogged, and that was due to it being mostly faux leather and plastic. If he was lucky, the contents of the bag were salvageable. If not, he was in for a long night of reprinting, signing and filing paperwork. That, and he'd need to go to the phone company to buy a new cell.

Slogging into the front doors of the law firm, keys slippery in wet hands, Phoenix allowed himself to rest. Well, collapse was a better term. As if all the bones in his body became rubber, he crumbled, back sliding against glass before he plopped onto tile with a squelch. A puddle developed beneath him.

He knew he made a pathetic sight.

Sitting on the ground, knees tucked to his chest, soaked through with a burnt hand wrapped in a crumbling paper towel from the courthouse bathroom.

"He was innocent," Phoenix murmured, eyes heavy, body aching. Evan Green, or as he liked being called, Mr. E, sought him less than a week ago. He trusted the lawyer to bring the real truth to the surface. Absently, he pulled his magatama from his suit pocket. The gently glowing green stone ebbed like a heartbeat, filled to the brim with familiar energy. It felt like Maya and Pearl...like Mia. He could sense and decipher lies, and never once did it reveal psyche locks on his client.

Mr. Evan Green was innocent.

And because of his failure, and Edgeworth's ruthless prosecution...he would be put to death within the month.

Clenching his fist around the spirit medium stone, Phoenix forced himself to stand.

One foot in front of the other, he moved through past the lobby towards the reception area. He had to finish his paperwork then he could close up. Despite this being a loss, the money from the case would keep the lights on and the rent paid for the office. He shivered as his hand brushed against a switch, pouring a warm glow on the pristine space. Phoenix was a naturally messy person. He flourished in controlled chaos, where nothin was put away, but he knew exactly where everything he needed was located.

The office was stiff and orderly. Just the way Mia kept it when she was alive. He stared at the black couch and neat front desk. Any client would feel as if they were speaking with a professional here. Beyond the desk stood tall bookshelves and cabinets filled with case files, remnants of his mentor's legacy. Phoenix frowned when he spotted the wilting potted plant by the window. Maya's persistence kept the bedraggled thing alive, but he wasn't the best at remembering to water it when she was away.

His heavy steps led him to the window.

He could see little through the condensation.

Phoenix slid his backpack off and opened it up. It was time to check the damage.

.

Briiiiing!

Startled by the sound of the Steel Samurai theme, Phoenix sucked in a deep breath and realized he had fallen asleep while finishing the paperwork for the trial. He was fortunate his cheap pack kept everything inside mostly dry, save for a few sheets of paper he had to reprint.

He aimlessly slapped around the surface of his desk until his palm landed on the obtrusive object.

He clicked answer and held the phone against his ear, cheek laid on a scatter of half-finished forms.

"Hello, you've reached Wright & Company, Phoenix Wright speaking."

"Nick! Hi. How are you?" It was Maya. Her voice was one of friendly teasing,"You were supposed to call after the trial. Did you go out an celebrate after you won? You're at a bar, aren't you? Eating a cheeseburger with a beer."

If only...

"I wish I could have been there. But you know I have to keep training so I can become a proper Master for the village and train the new recruits. Pearly is such a help with them. She may be little, but she's smart. Maybe I'll bring her up with me next time. She's misses you and you haven't visited in months."

"Maya..."

"Oh! The trial was against Mr. Edgeworth right? Man. You guys are always so fun to watch. We should invite him over for dinner some time."

"Maya!"

"Hm, is something wrong, Nick?"

Phoenix paused, struggling to find the words.

"Nick?"

"I...I lost."

"Sorry, the receptions kinda bad out here. It sounded like you said you lost."

He clenched his hand around the cell, "Because that is what I said."

Maya fell silent. Neither of them spoke for a little while, only their breathing heard across the line.

"Oh. But you...you said Mr. E was innocent."

"He is...I'm still certain of it."

Phoenix lifted his head and peeled a sheet of paper from his face. Absently, he shuffled them together, struggling to do so with his poorly bandaged hand. The paper towel was falling off and revealing harsh red skin beneath. If he didn't give it proper treatment soon, it would probably blister. The skin already ached when he flexed his fingers, pulling the tender flesh taut.

"I'm so sorry."

"What for?" he stood, peeling the last of the cheap paper towel from his burn with a flinch. Phoenix shuffled towards the bathroom. He had some antibiotic gel in the cabinet. Maya was accident prone, so he kept basic first aide supplies to tend petty injuries like cuts and scrapes. As he pulled the white box from under the sink, Edgeworth's voice floated across his brain.

 _'It is the job of prosecution to find a defendant guilty.'_

He nearly dropped the kit.

"I was the one who failed my client," Phoenix murmured, setting the plastic box on the porcelain sink's edge as he tried to wrestle it open with one hand. "It was my duty as the defense to prove him innocent. I...I wasn't prepared."

Everyone warned him his style of defense would fall apart one day. Bluffing only got you so far. But he was so certain he had this case solved. The evidence and testimony lined up! He caught every contradiction. He saw Edgeworth lose his cool near the end. What went awry?

The box he was fumbling with sprang open, its contents spilling into the sink and onto the floor in a clatter. An ace bandage unrolled itself across the tiles and a bottle of peroxide popped its cap and leaked all over the counter. Phoenix groaned and straightened the bathroom as quickly as he could without dropping his phone.

Maya didn't speak. He didn't have much left to say.

"Can I call you another time? I...I need to finish some stuff here in the office."

The spirit medium made a sound that sounded suspiciously like an upset snuffle, "Yeah. Yeah. Talk to you later, Nick. Um. Take care of yourself."

He murmured his ascent before hanging up.

As the line went dead, he found a slim tube of Neosporin and a square Band-Aide.

After he patched himself up, he would finish that paper work and go home. It had been a long day. Maybe some sleep would make things clear again.

 **tbc**

 **A/N: ( Thank you for reading! Review, fave and follow-your support is important. Feedback helps a writer grow, so please, even leaving behind a brief comment about what you do or don't like is highly appreciated.**

 **Until tomorrow~)**


	3. Chapter 3

.3.

"You have reached the Los Angeles Prosecution Office, Miles Edgeworth speaking."

"Mr. Edgeworth! I need your help."

"...Miss Fey?"

It was three days since his newsworthy defeat of courtroom rival, Phoenix Wright, hit the media. Long fingers curled around the ivory receiver of his office phone, Miles wondered why Maya Fey, Wright's assistant, was calling him. Couldn't she bother the man she practically lived with when she wasn't off in that spirit medium village in the mountains? Nothing if not polite, he refrained from voicing his derision in favor of deciphering what the teenager wanted. So far she spouted a long, drawn out babble of incomprehensible syllables that he assumed she believed were words.

He cleared his throat, interrupting her impassioned monologue.

"Miss Fey. Please calm down and speak slowly. What is the matter?"

Grey eyes flicked to the folders on his desk and the pile of books perched precariously on the edge. The polished hardwood surface needed clearing. A clutter space meant a cluttered mind. Miles began shuffling his papers into a neat stack for filing, absently noting which books went where in his wall-sized bookshelf. Hm. He caught a glimpse of his chess set. A blue chess piece laid on its side, surrounded by red. It always stood proudly before the last trial.

His busy hands paused. Why did it bother him?

"...and that's why I'm calling you...Mr. Edgeworth? Are you even listening? You're not are you?"

Fey sounded on the verge of tears, her voice warbling out those last few words.

"Pardon my distraction."

A pause. She sniffed loudly.

"I tried calling Nick, but he hasn't answered his phone in over two days. The last time I spoke with him, he told me he lost the trial and now I can't get a hold of him. I'd go looking for him, but I can't leave the village right now. Mr. Edgeworth, you're his friend. Please, find him and make sure he's okay."

Miles didn't speak at first, his thoughts trailing to Wright. The idiot was probably drinking himself silly on 'grape juice' in some sleazy bar. He wondered if Maya knew that's what her employer did when she wasn't around. Late night, drunken phone calls seemed reserved for Miles only...then again, he hadn't received one. He expected at least a single nonsensical, one-sided conversation with an overemotional and theatric Wright as he scolded him for daring to win the trial. Then he would cry. Miles always hung up when the man started the waterworks. It was just pathetic. At least the calls only happened once every couple months, usually when he was alone at the office for a couple weeks.

"...I will do my best, Miss Fey." He said, picking up a book and slipping it into its place on the shelf. Miles looked down at the chess board mere inches from his leg. With a sigh, he placed the blue piece on its base. "Try to have a pleasant evening."

He returned to his desk and placed the phone down, ending the call.

The watch on his wrist declared it was nearly eight o'clock. Preferably, he would spend another hour working here before finishing the day's labor at home. Instead he would be tracking down Wright and dragging him home.

It took about ten minutes to pack his essentials into his briefcase and close up for the night. He wasn't surprised when he saw no one else's lights on as he passed through the hallway to reach the stairwell. Twelve flights of stars later, the sole remaining occupant of the Prosecution Office stepped into the parking garage. Miles wrinkled his nose.

Hopefully Wright wouldn't be too inebriated. If he recalled correctly, one of the reasons he never received his drivers license was due to motion sickness. Having him vomit on his leather interior would be enough to ruin Miles barely tolerable week.

He opened the door to his car.

Briefly he wondered why he cared. Certainly they were friends as children and the man saved his life. But Miles was tired. No, exhausted. He wanted away from this city and its memories. Around every corner was a ghost. He chose death...and Wright thwarted his escape.

Miles dropped into the seat and rubbed his aching brow.

For months, he was furious with the man. He loathed his existence. Miles never recalled screaming so much until Wright left him, humiliated after sobbing his woes into that hideous blue suit he wore. Then the anger faded. It left him hollow. Emptier than before he tried to leave LA. He was full of worry, despair, grief and confusion then...Now, he was like a clay pot, sitting on the edge of a museum pedestal.

The whole world was waiting for a chance to push him off.

And Wright put him there.

He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles ached.

Then he forced himself to relax, a long breath escaping through his nose.

"The things I do for you, Wright."

Miles turned the ignition and sped near soundlessly out into the hazy neon night.

 **tbc**

 **A/N: (Thanks for reading! Please, if you do, I'd like to know what you enjoy or dislike. Feedback is love~ Until tomorrow.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

Shout out to SkyScout7 for reviewing all the chapters so far. Thank you for your lovely comments.

On with the fourth installment of this challenge~

.4.

Midnight found Miles at the sixth bar of the evening, his patience thinned to a thread. He asked every bartender if they saw Phoenix, showing them the photo he and the others took after Manfred Von Karma's defeat. It was the most recent one of the defense attorney he possessed outside of black-and-white newspaper clippings. And he wasn't about to show one of those like an obsessed stalker. Yes he kept the articles involving Wright, but only because he was the Prosecutor the man went up against. Miles liked knowing what the media said, that way he could negate certain rumors before they went to seed. Nonetheless, thus far, no one had seen the man in the glossy photo.

As he entered the latest (and by the sketchiest) dive, Miles was ready to give up. Phoenix was somewhere, not wanting to be found...or refusing to answer his door. He made made sure to knock at both the office and his apartment to be certain the lawyer wasn't just ignoring Maya's phone calls. When he didn't answer, Miles began this ridiculous quest.

Every eye in the place landed on him.

He thrust his chin high and strode to the bar. His kind wasn't wanted here. Miles didn't plan on overstaying his welcome. Still in his magenta work attire, he slid through the sputtering florescent glow of naked bulbs until he stood at the end of the bar. The woman working behind the counter was his height with straight blonde hair and dual arm sleeve tattoos. She walked his way with a steady gaze that said, 'Don't start trouble in my bar or I'll make you regret it.'

Miles cleared his throat.

"Pardon me, but I'm looking for someone," he began politely, fishing the photograph from his pocket. "Have you seen this gentleman..."

She grabbed the picture from his fingers and peered at it. Miles winced.

"He's the one in the blue suit."

The bartended tapped red polished nails on the bar for a long, drawn out second.

"Haven't seen your boyfriend, Frills-"

"What! He's not my-"

"-but I've seen this one right here."

"-boyfriend."

She arched a brow and pointed at none other than Larry Butz, "He's at table five in the back. Maybe he know's where your boy toy is."

Miles grabbed the photograph away with an indignant huff. The bartended rolled her eyes and strutted off, picking up empty glasses and bottles from the counter with ease. One of the men seated at the bar reached out to touch her, and she slammed a beer bottle on his roaming fingers. He retreated and she went back to work.

Making a personal note to never order a drink here lest the she-demon spit in it, Miles pushed away and reluctantly moved deeper into enemy territory. Why would someone like Larry patronize an establishment of such a low caliber? He chased models who enjoyed flights to Paris and...clock statues in the shape of the Thinker. Partaking in the spoils of the dark underbelly of LA wasn't how he pictured his less 'notable' childhood companion spending his last remaining dollars.

As he reached the back of the bar, he heard, rather than saw, Larry.

"Edgy? Is that you? Man, it is! Long time no see Edgy-boy."

Miles sniffed and turned in the sound of his voice, "Larry."

He couldn't bring himself to refer to anyone as Butz. It seemed that the overemotional fool would have a unique place in his vocabulary due to his unfortunate surname. Miles wondered if the man felt special or was still to oblivious to notice.

Said special man stood from where he sat with a tall, waif-like woman. Another model. This one was a redhead.

"What are YOU doing here?" Larry shouted as he approached. He'd assume he was drunk, but Miles had the great misfortune of knowing that this was his default volume. At least he did something to manage his wild blond hair and he ditched the obnoxious orange jacket for the evening. Why he was wearing black leather, Mile's wasn't quite sure, but he suspected it had something to do with the girl and his presence in this bar.

"I'm looking for the last member of our childhood trio," Miles said, folding his arms behind him. "Miss Fey called me in some distress. Wright is not answering his calls, nor does he appear to be in either his office or apartment. Given his propensity for 'having a little fun' when he's upset, I've been investigating the local...scene."

Larry scratched his head, blinking owlishly, "Nick's missing?"

"...perhaps."

"HOW CAN YOU BE SO CALM AT A TIME LIKE THIS!"

Mile's winced and took a step back, "Do not be dramatic, Larry. I doubt he's left town."

"What happened?"

"Have you not read the news?"

"Nah, I've been...distracted. Now tell me why Nick's missing, Edgy. You know, or you wouldn't be the one tracking him down."

The Prosecutor looked away and did his best not to show how anxious he felt beneath that earnest, pinning stare.

"Wright lost to me in court three days ago. No one's heard from him in 48 hours. I believe he's drunk in somewhere and needs to be escorted back to reality."

"Nick...lost?"

"...yes. He was quite distraught. Ran out of the courtroom to stand in the rain like some teenage prima donna."

Larry's expression turned black, "You're a real ass sometimes, Edgy."

"Pardon?"

The blond turned and said something to his date, who promptly hung off his arm as if he were he was he grand savior. There was a simpering longing in her gaze. Miles didn't quite know what to think. He always thought that Larry just talked about dating models. He often forgot he successfully did so and that was why he ended up accused of murdering one two years ago.

"Well, let's go," Larry urged. His voice held a hard, disapproving edge.

Miles refrained from asking what he did to deserve his derision, and followed. Maybe with Larry's help he could find Wright and drag the man home. Honestly, the trouble he was causing with this fit of pique. Miles did his best to shove aside a throb of guilt as he followed his childhood friend out of the bar. It wouldn't do to think of the days where he caused Wright far worse pain.

 **tbc**

 **A/N: (Thank you for reading and please review~ Tomorrow will be a short update because I'll be away from my computer for most of the day. )**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Shout out toSkyiesTheLimit. Thank you for your review.

As I mentioned previously, a shortie chapter. Time to start tying the threads together and build the plot.

.5.

'Where am I?'

Blue eyes peeled open, revealing a swimming, swirling scene. Phoenix clapped a hand over his face. Nauseated. His movements were sluggish. Limbs heavy. There was bitterness coating a heavy tongue and dry lips. Rancid. He groaned. It hurt to move. His head ached. It was daggers getting shoved into his eye sockets. He turned over. Coughed.

He inched his lids apart. Darkness and neon. He was outside?

Phoenix curled his fingers. Nails scraped concrete. Rough. His hand pulsed. Skin felt hot. Tight. He lifted it. A greying Band-Aide hung limp off reddened flesh. Right. He burned his hand. Coffee. When was that? He absently touched the wound.

Its ache made his vision ebb.

He didn't go home three days ago like he planned. Sleep was replaced by the numbing scald of cheap liquor. He clamped his eyes shut. No wonder he felt like shit. Phoenix curled his uninjured hand in his hair. Maya would be worried. If Mia were alive...she'd hang him by his toes for sure. He was a good lawyer. Uniquely successful in a system designed to indict the defendant of whichever crime they were accused of committing.

But that didn't make the loss any less wrenching.

An innocent dead.

His fault.

He groaned.

"Time to go home, Nick," Phoenix muttered, hating the sour tang on his breath. Despite those words, the defense attorney didn't move, the guilt that chased him to the bars chaining him in place.

 **tbc**

 **A/N: (Thanks for reading~ Feedback is love. Until tomorrow!)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Meant to post yesterday, but I was everywhere but home. Got half of this chapter done and decided it was best just to wait until today to finish it.

.6.

CRACK!

Pain. Bright. Throbbing.

A shift.

Something dripped down the side of his neck. Warm.

A rolling click. The scent of smoke. Pressing chill. Metal.

A scream. Feminine.

Footsteps. Running. Faster. Faster.

Shadows.

The world blurred into blackness.

Nothing.

.

"...Nix...Fee...Nix...Phoenix."

Slowly, the darkness subsided, giving way to an eerie haze. The glow pulsed. Brightened and skewed. The scent of bleach stung his senses. Eyes, nose, mouth. He inhaled slowly. His lungs ached. Why did he feel like there was a marching band playing the halftime show in his skull?

"Phoenix!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Suddenly, his world snapped into focus.

Grey eyes stared down at him, wide and wet.

"Oh my gosh, Nick! You're awake."

"M-maya?"

He was winded by the spirit medium nearly throwing herself on top of him. Phoenix groaned. That gesture made everything spin again. He was stuck in a carousel from hell!

"Miss Fey, detach yourself from Wright. You will aggravate his injuries."

"O-oh. Oh no. Sorry, Nick."

Phoenix did his best to blink the pain away as he sat up. Edgeworth and Maya both in the same place? That rarely happened. Any why did everyone sound so tense? Probably the same reason he couldn't see straight for more than five seconds.

Magenta entered his line of sight.

The stiff lines Phoenix associated with Edgeworth were strangely rumpled. There were wrinkles on his slacks and button up. How odd. His eyes trailed up to the Prosecutor's face. His expression was strained, and he wasn't looking directly at him. The defense attorney noted the way his fingers clenched, one hand twitching as if he desperate to wrap an arm around himself.

He trailed his gaze past the man and saw Larry standing in the back, hands tucked in his pockets. That wasn't the jubilant man he knew and loved to harass.

"Why's ever'one so gloomy?"

Maya sniffed and Edgeworth somehow got stiffer. Larry was the one who replied, his voice trembling with rarely well-hidden emotion.

"You almost died, Nick."

"Huh? Died?"

Pheonix looked around. None of the others seemed to disagree. And...and was he in a hospital? Reality sunk its teeth in as he took his first proper look at his surroundings. It was a stuffy white room with a blue-green curtain dividing his bed from something. Probably machinery. There was an IV in his arm and somewhere, a heart monitor beeped.

"While you were off wallowing in your self-pity, some passing vagrant took you for an easy victim. He knocked you unconscious with a blow to the back of the head and dragged you into an alleyway. I believe you must have begun to come to, because he had a gun pointed between your eyes when..." Edgeworth paused and took in a deep breath. "When we passed by. If it hadn't been for Larry's...ah, girlfriend, we might have never noticed you."

The scream. He heard a woman's scream before his world went black.

"Sent Lucy home." Larry cut in. "She thought she witnessed a murder. Lucky we came running, or she would have been a witness to yours."

"I...I..."

Phoenix didn't know how to respond. All he knew was his head was spinning again.

The door opened.

A stranger in blue scrubs leaned in.

"Visitor hours are over you three...Wait. The patient is awake?" The nurse frowned as she entered and began shooing his friends away. The trio left, Edgeworth trailing at the end. Grey eyes flashed in the false light. A pang of regret lanced through Phoenix's trembling heart.

It seemed like ever since he lost that case, his luck ran dry.

 **tbc**

 **A/N: (And the plot thickens, eh? It isn't Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney without a murder, or, almost murder.)**


	7. Chapter 7

.7.

"You look like shit."

"How eloquent, Wright."

Miles peered around the small room, his skin prickling. He had no love for places like these. Hospitals reminded him of all the deaths in his life. With his share of ghosts, simply walking through the halls was enough to haunt him. He struggled to keep a straight face as he settled his gaze on Phoenix Wright. The man did not look like Cinderella himself. But almost getting killed did that to a person. Left them looking painfully small and vulnerable amongst the tangle of white sheets.

He shut the door and stepped further in.

Wright watched him, a cocky smile plastered on his face. But it didn't take a genius to see through the facade. The smile was wavering and his limp hair stole from the expression's potential impact. He wasn't the spiky-headed, bluffing nitwit he knew. This man was his shadow. A frightened, meek shell that needed some hot air to blow. Yet he smiled. As much as it pained him, Wright tried to act like nothing happened.

Not that Miles could fault him. He did the exact same thing. Was doing the exact same thing.

"The nurse said you can return home tonight." The defense attorney nodded, his hands clenching the sheet. Miles tapped his fingers against his hip. "Miss Fey is expecting you."

More clenching the sheets. His fingers were practically knotted in the fabric.

"Why are you here then?"

"Public transit would be rather counterproductive in your condition. I agreed to check you from the hospital and escort you home. Unlike yourself, I have a car."

"Escort? You sound like you're my date to Senior prom."

Miles sniffed and tilted his chin up. Humor was Wright's defense when he felt insecure.

"If I recall your drunken monologues correctly, you never attended prom," he retorted. "Your date stood you up."

"Ooh. Mock the man in the hospital bed."

"Only because he deserves it. Now, do you wish to leave or are you lingering for another night?"

Wright arched his brows, "Is that even a question?"

"Hn. Very well."

It seemed neither of them held fond feelings for this place.

 **tbc**

 **A/N: (Thoughts, feelings, commentary? Every little bit counts~ Until tomorrow!)**


	8. Chapter 8

.8.

Maya seemed determined to finish off what the mugger started.

She was trying to kill him, he was certain of it. Why else would the woman play nothing but Steel Samurai movies whenever he was awake? Maya insisted that he relax and not stress himself. She brought him food and made him a captive on his own couch. The spirit guide's scolding was weapon enough to keep him place when his head echoed pain like the gavel's fall in the courtroom right before a guilty verdict.

So he obediently sat, mummy-wrapped in an pink blanket and stared at his tiny TV.

He could hear Maya humming in the kitchen as she attempted to make...food. He wasn't allowed many solids yet, so Phoenix had high hopes of his microwave soup turning out unscathed.

"Uh-oh."

Well, there wen't those dreams.

A few minutes later, Maya came into the living room, a sheepish smile on her face. In her hands was a bowl of something that smelled vaguely of chicken soup and feet. He grimaced.

"So, what is it?" Phoenix asked warily.

"My sister's secret recipe! She always made this special soup whenever I was sick."

Urg. No wonder. Last he recalled, Mia didn't cook. She pointedly, did not cook. When he was interning with her, the senior defense attorney expressly mentioned never using her kitchen because she never learned to make anything edible. And before she became a prominent lawyer with her own firm, she lived off of coffee and ramen like any other young twenty-something in the Los Angeles area.

Who could afford food in this economy?

Other than Edgeworth. He and his fancy car could probably handle Maya's five stomaches worth of appetite without flinching.

Phoenix sighed. He really should stop thinking about him. The man was back to his old, demon prosecutor self and was only paying attention to him because Phoenix went on a bend and nearly got killed. Once this whole fiasco blew over, he'd go back to ignoring his existence until the next trial.

He picked at the bandage on his hand.

It needed changing.

"Nick! Stop messing with that," Maya's voice made him wince. Blue eyes trailed up to her face and widened at the tears forming in gray orbs. She sniffed and placed the soup on the coffee table with a clatter. "Let me go get you a spoon." And with that, she was gone.

Then it occurred to him.

Maya would have to leave soon to return to Kurain.

He would be alone again.


End file.
